Siberia
by ChaosOfTheUniverce
Summary: The Seigaku Regulars awake, to their shock and horror, in Atobe's Siberian cabin where they will remain for intensive training...indefinitly.
1. Waking up in Hell

**Introduction:**

Fuji Shusuke awoke in a room that was most definitely not his own. Three things confirmed this unpleasant reality…

Supporting Fact the First: the room Fuji awoke in was large, and painted a highly irritating shade of orange, with a shaggy rug in a complimentary cream tone adorning the polished mahogany floor. The room Fuji had gone to sleep in had been painted blue for the past fourteen years of his life, and, as far as he knew, had never once had a rug.

Supporting Fact the Second: the bed Fuji had gone to sleep on had been the normal, twin-sized bunk which he had slept on almost every night for the past fourteen years of his existence. Despite the luxury of the silken sheets, and extravagant size of the bed Fuji awake on, he found himself inexplicably uncomfortable.

Or perhaps his discomfort had something to do with Supporting Fact the Third: he was most definitely positive he had gone to sleep alone, yet somehow he awoke squashed under a large, snoring pile of his eight best friends, and tennis teammates.

Fuji Shusuke was not one to panic. He honestly believed that situations could easily be solved by calm, rational, quick thinking. Which would be why he only began to scream when the frigid arctic wind came gusting through the open window, rippling the curtain out of place, and revealing an expanse of ice and snow as far as the eye could see. This was not a situation; it was a nightmare.

Fuji's screech echoed through the Siberian house, sweeping along the hallway, down the stairs, and into the kitchen, where it rattled the teacup of Ryuzaki-Sensei.

She smiled, putting down her morning paper, and glanced toward the ceiling.

"Excellent! They're awake."

**Chapter the First:**

"…twenty laps…for unbecoming conduct…now…shut…the hell….up…."

The scream died on Fuji's throat as he turned under the heavy pile of still-snoring bodies (God, the things that his friends could sleep through!) to face something far more terrifying then an endless expansion of frozen Siberian wasteland; his very angry, very sleepy captain.

Tezuka was, for lack of a more fitting phrase, a colossal terror first thing in the morning. Fuji found himself staring at a bleary-eyed, messy-haired version of his friend, minus Tezuka's normal composure, and with a healthy dose of morning breath on the side. His face, normally devoid of all emotion, was now only too happy to exhibit the complete irritation he felt over his early, and rather inappropriate, wake up call.

Fuji gulped.

"Sorry, Tezuka…"

Tezuka's eyes focused as he heard Fuji's voice, his expression melting from fury into pure astonishment. Disbelievingly, he squinted his eyes, and pushed his face within centimeters of Fuji's own traumatized expression.

"Shusuke? Is that **you**?"

"Yeah." Fuji swallowed again, wondering if it would be rude of him to inch backwards. Really, did Tezuka even brush his teeth before going to bed..?

"What the hell is going on? Where are we? Who's on top of us? Why are we all-

OOMPH!!"

A foot had emerged from the pile of bodies and smacked Tezuka in the back of the head, bashing his face against Fuji's. Needless to say, finding himself with a mouthful of hair at 7am did little to improve the captain's already sour mood. He immediately spat out everything still connected to Fuji's scalp, and began clawing at his tongue to get rid of the loose hairs.

Fuji whimpered, checking his nose for blood.

"Sheesh, Tezuka, you should bathe more often. Your neck smells horrible!"

"Like you're one to say anything!" Tezuka managed to glare, spit, and talk at the same time. "You should buy a different kind of shampoo. Your hair tastes like soap."

"Well, duh!" Fuji hissed, blue eyes blazing. "That's what shampoo is, soap for your hair. You would know that, too, if you bothered to shower once in a while!"

"..sh-shut up…" Tezuka blushed. "It doesn't matter. Who kicked us, anyway? Hoi, you, wake up!"

Twisting backwards, Tezuka managed to find the offending foot. It looked fairly small, lying innocently on the pillow beside Tezuka's head. He seized the largest toe, and gave it a brisk tug.

"KAAARUPIIIN! **BAD** CAT!!!"

The pile of bodies began to shift as Ryoma wiggled his way free of the constraining arms and legs that seemed to be everywhere, and sat up, blinking dazedly at the boy who was both his captain and his role model.

"…you're not my cat."

Tezuka hastily dropped Ryoma's foot, too busy trying not to feel foolish to notice when Ryoma's foot landed on Inui's face.

"No, um, I'm not your cat, I, uh, I really didn't mean to-"

"There is a 98 chance that I am in serious trouble, because Tezuka is stuttering, which means that he has lost his composure. He has previously _retained _his composure while willfully destroying his own arm, playing billiards with Fuji, and drinking my Inui Juice. This tells me that there is a 2 chance of the situation involving serious physical discomfort. However, if we are grade on a scale where the degrees are valued as degrees of composure lost as a relative measure to-"

"FWSHHH. Shut up. You talk too loud."

"I'd know that stupid snake's voice anywhere. You know, you're not sucha quiet talker yourself. You wanna go? Right here, right now. C'mon, I'll beat the living crap out of ya! What's the matter, _scared_?"

"Fwshhhh. You're on."

"Hoi hoi, what's all the noise about? Did we have a slumber party last night? I **LOVE** slumber parties! This was such a great idea!! Nyaa, let's play a game before we all go home. I wonder which one? I'm best at twister, but no one else likes that…."

"Um, everyone? I'm sorry to be a trouble, but I didn't sleep very well last night. Could you please be a little more quiet? Just for a little while, maybe twenty minutes or so, oh, thank you Fuji……BURNING, BABY BURNING!! I SHALL NOW SILANCE YOU ALL WITH MY FLAMING SKILLS OF **POWER**!! C'MON BABY C'MON, IS THAT THE LOUDEST YOU CAN YELL?!"

"Nyaa, Momo-chan, strangling Kaidoh-kun isn't the kind of game I meant-!"

"Everybody, SHUTTUP!!"

Everyone complied, staring at Oishi with surprise. He glared back up at them from his current position as Fuji's footrest, his naturally kind face showing nothing but worry.

"What exactly is going on? Do any of you know?"

Eiji glomped him cheerfully. " We're having a slumber party, silly!"

"I kind of noticed," Oishi mumbled, unable to hide a smile at his friend's enthusiasm.

"Allow me to explain," an amused voice commanded from the doorway.

"Ry-Ryuzaki?" Fuji poked his head through a gap under Momo's arm. "You're here, too?"

"Of course." The tennis coach smiled evilly. "But it's not me that you should be thanking. Atobe-kun is really the one that you owe a debt of gratitude to. I saw him at one of the tennis tournements that I attended recently, and the moment he mentioned his idea for anew training plan for Seigaku, I knew that I couldn't let this opportunity go to waste. With his usual generosity, he offered to let us use his cabin in Siberia as the base for our new training camp. Now, first thing every morning, we'll-"

"SIBERIA???!!!"

**AUTHOR'S NOTE: All right, everyone, review time! The story won't get any better ****if you don't comment on it. I'm doing a wacky version, but when I'm finished, if the ****plot line is good, then I'll write another version with the same story line, but more in ****character. Review for the next chapter, and I'll give you a cookie :D **

_**Preview for chapter two:**_

"**Team **_**what?**_**"**

"**Team bonding, Ryoma, team bonding. Every two days, you shall be assigned a new ****partner to 'survive' the week with. You may not speak to anyone except your partner. ****You must remain within sight of each other at all times. When it comes to things like ****bathing, you may take turns. One of you must wait outside of the bathroom door **_**without moving or speaking to anyone else**_** until your partner is finished. Atobe ****believes that it will diminish our intra-squad disagreement."**

"**Atobe isn't God, you know!!! He could be WRONG, and then you'd have dragged us ****out into the Siberian wilderness for NOTHING."**

"**Well, I suppose that it possible, Fuji. But at any rate, we'll all be much stronger by t****he time we finish his physical training, as well."**

**"He planned the physical training TOO?"**

"**oh, goody…" **


	2. Unwilling partners

**A/N: Yes, I DO plan on continuing this story! UPDATE TIME!!!! Please don't forget to review. That's my SOURCE OF MOTIVATION!!! Any and every suggestion that you make is very, very helpful. I apologize for the brevity of this chapter, and excessive amount of dialogue. It needed to happen, in order to set the stage for the rest of the story. **

Chapter Two: Unwilling Doubles Partners

"SIBERIA??!!"

"Of course!" Ryuzaki smiled benignly. "There are two advantages to holding our month-long-"

"MONTH LONG??!!"

"-training session here; firstly, after training intensively through snow, wind, ice, and frostbite, you will be fully prepared to play tennis in any kind of weather. Your ability to play tennis in Japan will also increase; after all, think how easy it will seem to play tennis at a typical temperature after this!"

"...what's the second advantage?" Ryoma asked, looking slightly mollified at the prospect of increasing his tennis skills.

"I'm glad to see you're taking a healthy interest!" Ryuzaki beamed at her protege. "Few people visit this particular Siberian village, due to its proximity to the peak of Mt. Svieck, and tendency to have a sub-freezing temperature. This means that we will have a minimal number of people who will disturb our team bonding."

"Team _what?_"

"Team bonding, Ryoma, team bonding. Every seven days, you shall be assigned a new partner to 'survive' the week with. You may not speak to anyone except your partner. You must remain within sight of each other at all times. When it comes to things like bathing, you may take turns. One of you must wait outside of the bathroom door _without moving or speaking to anyone else_ until your partner is finished. Atobe believes that this will help to diminish our intra-squad disagreements, and help us understand one another more clearly."

"So let me get this straight," Fuji hissed. "What you're basically saying is that you kidnaped us to a malevolent rival-tennis-player's vacation house on some frozen, God-forsaken Siberian rock because Atobe _told you to?_" His voice broke slightly at the last words.

"Atobe is merely looking out for the well-being of Seigaku," Ryuzaki grumbled. " I think it's a marvelous idea. Now then; is everyone ready to select partners?"

"Ryuzaki-Sensei, there are nine of us. Does that mean that one person gets to interact with everyone? Ah, one moment please." Inui adjusted his sleep mask, and began rummaging through the pockets of his pyjamas in search of his glasses. The other regulars surreptitiously watched him as he turned his face away, disposed of his sleep mask, and placed his typical black frames upon his face before turning back towards his teammates. "If that idea is unsatisfactory, we could create one group of three, or bring along one extra person to train."

Ryuzaki was quiet for a moment, pondering.

"..I don't like the idea of one person on their own," she finally stated. "Who would you nominate to join us? Ari, since he has the most potential?"

:Actually, I was thinking of Horio," Inui stated, furrowing his forehead. "After all, he needs all of the help he can get."

"Group of three, then," Ryoma said hurriedly.

"Very good." Ryuzaki looked rather relieved. "Would four of you stand up and come over here, please?"

The mass of bodies on the luxurious bed writhed for a moment as various people attempted to claw their way towards their coach. The chaos gradually settled, and left Kaidoh, Ryoma, Taka (racket-less), and Eiji standing beside Ryuzaki. She smiled at them, and held out a familiar-looking white hat filled with little scraps of paper. Ryoma glared at her.

"Here. Pick!"

Eiji squealed, and pushed Ryoma out of the way. The players remaining on the bed visibly tensed, each of them (with the possible exception of Oishi) hoping not to be the poor soul stuck with the excessively affectionate acrobatic player.

Eiji pulled his hand out of the hat, and read his slip of paper. A grin spread across his face, and he pounced on the luckless captain of his team.

"Nya, Tezuka-chan, Tezuka-chan, we're going to be partners! Isn't that great?? We're gonna get the chance to really get to know each other. Just think- by the end of this week, it's gonna be like we're _brothers_!!"

Tezuka gulped.

"Hmmpsh." Kaidoh glared at his noisy sempai, and strode towards the hat, praying with every fiber of his being not to get stuck with the spiky-haired idiot. His eyes widened as he read his scrap of paper.

"O-Oishi..."

The mother-hen of the tennis team smiled at the under-classman, hoping not to get killed.

"Taka-sempai..." Ryoma turned to the racket-less Takashi. "You next, or me?"

"You, please," Taka murmured, bighting his lower lip. "I'd rather be with three people the first time, if that's all right with you."

"Of course." Ryoma stepped forwards, feeling vaguely sorry that he couldn't spend the week with Takashi, who was apparently the only normal person there. But Momo and Inui weren't too bad. The only person he didn't think he could survive the week with was...

"...Fuji-sempai..."

"Excellent!" Ryuzaki shook the remaining scraps of paper out of Ryoma's hat, and placed it on his head. "This leaves Taka, Momo, and Inui in the fourth group!"

The three remaining boys smiled tentatively at one another, glad to be in the most...mellow of the groups. Fuji took one look at Ryoma's ashen, terrified face and smiled, good mood entirely restored. This was going to be the most enjoyable week he'd had in years.

**Wondering what's going on with Ryuzaki-sensei? This chapter's extra:**

**At a drugstore near Ryuzaki's house:**

A balding, middle-aged drugstore owner was examining the packets and prescriptions left from his day's work. There was only one, today; a package of sleep enhances for a woman named Ryuzaki. The man frowned; he could have been certain that he had seen her earlier today...

The bell on his door jingled as a young woman walked through the door, and approached the counter.

"Excuse me, sir? I'm here to pick up a prescription. My name is Ryuzakii, and the prescription should be for an Anti-Depressant."

The drugstore owner frowned again, and began to search for the young woman's package. How odd, the only package he could find was for the Ryuzaki lady, and he was _sure_ that he'd seen Ryuzaki just this morning, too. His heart sank, and he hurried over the cash register receipts. There it was; 8:23 AM, Ryuzaki had used her credit card to purchase a prescription for..._Ryuzakii_.

_**Oh crap.**_


	3. The wrath of Fuji Shusuke

**A/N: My apologies for the lengthy wait. I've been busy with schoolwork, and drama, and tennis, and entrepreneurship, and a writers conference I needed to write non-fanfiction for, and lots of other things. But, I shall try to update soon. Thank you. Please enjoy the chapter!**

**VERY IMPORTANT!! INCLUDE IN YOUR REVIEW THE PAIR OF CHARACTERS YOU WOULD LIKE THE NEXT CHAPTER TO BE ABOUT!!**

CHAPTER THREE: THE WRATH OF FUJI SHUSUKE

Ryoma scrabbled through a kitchen appliance drawer, grumpily suppressing a yawn. It was just his luck to get stuck with kitchen duties for the first day. Knowing that the last time he had attempted to cook something he had started a house fire didn't inspire Ryoma with much confidence, but he was surprisingly comforted by the knowledge that Fuji would be helping him. Preparing food seemed to be just the sort of unusual thing the older boy would know all about, and although Ryoma was savvy enough to mistrust him on a personal level, he had no qualms about his senpai's seemingly infallible abilities. He just doubted Fuji's willingness to help.

'Stupid Tensai,' Ryoma grumbled, slamming the first drawer shut and yanking open a second. 'Where the hell is he? Unless he wants everybody to eat charred eggs and fried pancakes for breakfast, he'd better show up.'

The protege ripped open a third drawer, comforting himself with the image of the other regulars yelling at Fuji and making him eat the entire disgusting meal by himself. He knew no one really expected a freshman to be able to cook; it would be ludicrous for them to blame him for his severe lack of cooking ability.

The kitchen door creaked open, and a pair of sock-clad feet patted their way across the floor towards the coffee pot.

"Ne, Echizen-kun, you're up early, aren't you?"

"Yes, Fuji-senpai, I am, as you were also supposed to be. We're making breakfast for everyone, on the old hag's orders."

"And by 'we're making breakfast' you mean 'please Fuji-senpai, won't you please cook for everyone to that I don't burn the cabin down,' correct?" Fuji smiled sweetly over the rim of his coffee cup at the younger boy, who had moved on to perusing the kitchen cabinets. "What're you looking for, anyway?"

"A spatula." Ryoma glowered at a nearly solid wall of Campbell's instant soup cans, and turned to the next cabinet. "The Monkey-King seems to have every kitchen device ever invented **except** for rubber spatulas. Although, if I can't find one, I suppose we could just serve everyone tomato soup for breakfast, seeing as Atobe certainly has plenty to spare."

Fuji stifled a chuckle, and Echizen glanced up, irritated.

The older boy was leaning against the corner of the kitchen counter, loosely clutching a yellow mug in one hand while a ray of early morning sunlight played across his closed eyes and sleep-mussed hair. One of his elbows rested casually on the counter, his hand and forearm tucked behind his back. Echizen marveled at the intimacy of the Tensai's pose, so utterly self-assured and relaxed, before sighing and looking away. This was wrong. Fuji never let his guard down, unless he was lulling his prey into a false sense of security. But all the same, he seemed at peace as he stood there peacefully...Ryoma furrowed his brow for possibly the first time in his life. To trust, or not to trust...?

"-help you look for it?"

"Huh?" Ryoma glanced up again, embarrassed to be caught daydreaming.

"Do you want me to help you look for a spatula?" Fuji smiled again, almost affectionately.

"Oh. Uh, yeah, sure. Thanks." Ryoma turned back to the cabinates, watching out of the corner of his eye as the older boy crossed the room quickly, one hand still partially obscured behind his back.

The next few moments passed in a blur.

Fuji's eyes flickered open to reveal the irises stained a violent red, giving him a murderous look. His tender smile became a grimace of malice as he shoved the younger boy back against the cupboards and pressed the blade of the knife he had been hiding behind his back against his victim's throat. Ryoma tried to scream, to fight, to breathe, but the knife sliced through his skin and flesh. He could feel the heat of his teammate's rank breath on his face as the blood poured down his chest...

"-up now! Ryoma, wake up!"

Ryoma's eyes flew open and he shot upright, his face colliding with Fuji's. The older boy whimpered, and clutched his nose for the second morning in a row.

"That's absolutely NO way to thank someone who wakes you up from a nightmare! Now hurry, and get up. We have to make everyone breakfast."

"...Fuji-senpai..." Ryoma examined the older boy for a moment. "Would you open your eyes for me, please?"

"Eh?" The tensai's eyes did open, although more out of surprise than compliance. Mercifully, they shone their usual blue. "Ryoma, what are you talking about?"

"Nothing."

Ryoma slid out of bed and hurried down the hallway, cursing the taller boy's longer legs as he was easily overtaken.

"All right, then. Tell me what you were dreaming of, that made you so terrified."

Ryoma scowled, wishing he had grabbed his hat before he left the bedroom so that he could hide himself from the tensai's smile. There was no point refusing or delaying; tenacity was one of Fuji's best (and often most irritating) qualities.

"...you, actually."

Fuji's eyes popped open again, gleaming.

"Why, you had a nightmare about me?" He looked absolutely delighted. "That's just terrible. I'm so happy!...I mean, sorry..."

"Yeah, yeah," Ryoma grumbled as he continued hurrying down the hallway, staying as far ahead of the creepy older boy as possible.

As they neared the kitchen door, Echizen felt a hand on his arm. When he turned, he was surprised to see Fuji's eyes looking genuinely apologetic.

"I'm sorry, Ryoma. I shouldn't have laughed at you. If you have another nightmare this week, you can wake me up so that you can talk about it, or something. I know it's hard when no one's awake to listen. And..I just wanted to let you know I'd never hurt you. I know I mess with people sometimes, and some people are afraid of me, but none of you ever have to worry. Everyone here...I care about them too much to ever hurt them. I just wanted you to know."

Ryoma was still trying to judge whether the older boy was speaking in earnest when Fuji unexpectedly leaned forward and pulled the younger boy into his arms.

It was impossible to think when his head was nestled under Fuji's chin and the soft scent of the tensai was filling his nose, so Ryoma settled for standing still, absolutely paralyzed with fear, and feeling very, very worried. He might as well have been a rabbit caught by a wolf, only to be brought back to the wolf's lair and added to a roly-poly litter of pups.

Thankfully, Fuji didn't hold him for more than a few moments before turning away and continuing to walk towards the kitchen.

"...ok...that was weird..." Ryoma watched Fuji's retreating back with puzzlement for a few seconds, before hurrying to catch up.

Breakfast was a surprising success; when it came to cooking, Fuji was worth his weight in gold. Apart from occasionally diverting the older boy when he got too close to the knife drawer, Ryoma did nothing but watch and attempt to learn. Fuji was an excellent teacher; his demonstrations were accompanied with flawless explanations, and by the time the other regulars stumbled into the dining room yawning, Ryoma was able to fry bacon and eggs, and flip pancakes without dropping them on the floor.

To make up for his utter uselessness in the kitchen,Echizen offered to clear the table and wash the dishes while Fuji took the first shower. The tensai gratefully accepted the offer, and agreed to meet him on the tennis courts afterwards for practice.

As Ryoma began loading a tray with dirty dishes and wondered again why Fuji had acted so strangely that morning, something hard collided with the back of his head. His eyes smarted with pain, and Ryoma blinked for a moment before swinging around to face his abuser.

"MOMO! What was THAT for?"

"We're not supposed to be talking to one another, remember?" The older boy reached down and took a relatively unchewed half of a pancake off of one of the sticky plates Ryoma was holding.

"The hell I'm not." Ryoma dropped his tray of dishes and snatched the pancake away from Momo. "Now, say you're sorry, or else I'm eating this myself."

"Hey!" Momo yelped, scrabbling to reclaim his pancake. "That's not fair! It's not my fault you're stupid enough to walk around with a sign like that taped to your back!"

"...sign?" Ryoma let the scrap of sticky pancake fall to the floor, and ignoring Momo, who bent down to devour his prize, he pulled off his shirt and flipped it over. On its back was taped a little white sign bearing the carefully written words "kick me".

Fuji Shusuke was one dead prodigy.

**Aaaaand, that's all for today. Please don't forget to review, and include your vote for the next pair to be tortured!!**

**-Mello**


	4. At odds with the world

Review Responses:

Demonsadist: Glad you liked the story!

DemonGirl13: Yes, he can be quite the monster, hmm?

-Hime-of-the-Shadows: Thanks! Glad you liked the style.

Speadee: The key word here is satire, mon ami. If everyone behaved precisely as they always did, I would have next to nothing to write about. Try not to quibble so much about fact; it will do nothing but bog you down. How did Atobe make it rain rose-petals in the Nationals? How do any of the regulars execute their physics-defying, magic tennis moves? Is it real? No! Is it possible? Probably not! Then Why, WHY do they do it? For PANACHE, mon ami, for the sheer drama! Live a little!

EvCaCeLy: Glad you liked all the chapters!

Skoellya: Tell me about the repetition. That's why I'm writing this; I wanted to do something... ...unusual, to say the least. Thank you so much for the idea about no-talking, Charlie-Chaplin-esque conflicts. I'm gonna run with that one for the next chapter!

Saya: One Tezuka-Eiji torture chapter coming right up! ...after this chapter.

tezuka: Thanks, glad the story amused you : )

**Author note: please allow me to correct a mistake I made. In a previous chapter, I said that the groups were going to last two days, and then I switched it and started talking about how the groups would last for a week. The week is the right length of time. Sorry for the confusion! This will also be the last "short" chapter. I'm touching up the next chapter, and it's about triple the length of this one, and it covers the full second day. **

**Chapter V: At Odds with the World**

"All right, boys! Good hustle! Just give me ten more laps and you're done for today."

Oishi tugged his jacket more snugly around his body and tried not to think or shiver. This was by far the worst practice he had ever been to, bar none. Shoveling off the courts had made his back ache, and the sand they had sprinkled on the icy patches had left both his hands and the tennis balls covered with foul-smelling grime. Running in the cold was the worst part: it made his throat ache when he breathed in too deeply.

'I know Ryuzaki is doing this for the good of the team, but...this really sucks.' He sneezed, and sighed woefully, and sneezed again.

Kaidoh jogged beside Oishi, eyeing him doubtfully. The older boy looked about ready to collapse. Maybe they should slow down a bit...

"You all right, sempai? This isn't a race, you know...we could drop back if you needed to."

"N-nonsens-sense, I'm f-fine. R-really!" Oishi beamed around his chattering teeth, and sped up to prove he was telling the truth. "S-see? I'm j-just fi-OOMPH!"

The older boy's foot suddenly landed on a patch of unsalted ice and sent him careening into Kaidoh, who bellowed and pin-wheeled his arms in a desperate attempt to remain upright. Ryoma, who had been running behind the pair, was unable to stop in time, and sent the two older boys flying into the snowdrifts like so many bowling pins. Fuji hit the same patch of ice Oishi had slipped on, and he grabbed Ryoma's arm to steady himself. The younger boy, who was still smarting about the 'kick me' sign, tried to push his partner away; the two went down in a flurry of limbs. Ryoma's hat tumbled from his head and rolled into Eiji's path. The acrobat tried to avoid stepping on both the hat and Kaidoh's face, and ended up joining the snarl of bodies on the ground. Tezuka hastily stopped and tried to help Eiji to his feet, only to be barreled over by a racquet-wielding Taka. Momo and Inui tripped over the sizeable pile of bodies and were sent somersaulting through the air to land beside (and partially on top of) Fuji and Ryoma.

Ryuzaki uneasily surveyed the pile of groaning, weeping boys at her feet.

"On second thought...let's just call it a day."

** XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

"Ryooooma-kun..."

Silence.

"Ryooooooooma-chan..."

More silence.

"Ryooooooooooooma...please say something."

"There's nothing to say." Ryoma calmly perused his tennis magazine.

"What do you mean, there's nothing to say?" Fuji raised his eyebrows in surprise. "We have to talk, we have to work this out. That's why we're here."

"There's no need to work anything out. I've resolved to hate you forever," Ryoma dead-panned, disinterestedly flicking over a page. "Sorry."

"Look." The tensai sighed and raised a hand as if to run his fingers through his hair, but stopped himself. Instead, he sank down on the arm of the younger boy's chair. "I'm not saying you're wrong. You've got every right to be angry with me."

"Damn straight I do!" Ryoma grumbled, but he didn't shift away. "You made me believe you actually cared about me and the rest of the team, and then you taped a 'kick-me' sign on my back and tackled me into the snow."

"That's not fair, Ryoma," Fuji frowned. "I do care about you, and everyone else here. You're like family to me."

"Oh, so you push your brother into snowdrifts too, do you? It's no wonder he hates your guts."

Fuji clenched his jaw, but didn't let his smile waver.

"**Fine**. You're obviously still upset. Whenever you've calmed down, come find me and we'll fix this."

Ryoma's ears perked up.

"Whenever I've calmed down?"

"Whenever you've calmed down. I'll be waiting."

"...sweet."

** XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

Fuji leaned against the back of the marble bathtub and grimaced up at the frescoed bathroom ceiling. A ruddy-faced cherub glared balefully back down at the protege from its perch on a cloud, brandishing a bow and quiver of heart-tipped arrows threateningly. The steamy water began to ease the tension in his muscles and Fuji sighed, letting his eyes drift shut. What a hellish day it had been. Ryoma's angry face flashed before his eyes, and Fuji winced, stirring the water uncomfortably with one foot. It was only a matter of time until the younger boy forgave him, but being at odds still made Fuji feel awful. He would do better from now on, he resolved. No more pranks, no more plots. He'd be good. Perhaps he could mollify the younger boy by teaching him how to make dinner...

And in the meantime he'd better get a move on, Fuji thought as he poured a dollop of shampoo into his hand and began lathering his hair. Ryoma was waiting for the bathtub, and Fuji didn't want to make him any more grumpy than he already was.

**XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

Ryoma sent the breathtakingly gorgeous bathroom door a withering glance. As usual, Atobe didn't do anything halfway; the door had been carved and gilded until it resembled a Venetian chapel more than a door leading to the toilet. Ridiculous. Was it actually studded with _real diamonds_? The young boy scoffed quietly as he appraised the monstrosity. If they hocked it, the team could probably purchase half a dozen more courts, and maybe even new uniforms as well. Of course, Atobe would probably notice if one of his priceless bathroom doors vanished...

Steering his thoughts firmly away from criminal activity, Ryoma bent forwards and pressed his ear against the crack where the door met the wall. A soft, melodic splashing greeted his ears, and lapsed quickly into silence. There was the sudden 'pop' of a shampoo bottle being uncapped, and the muted, foamy sound of lathering.

Ryoma smirked; it was time.

He pushed open the gaudy door and marched into the steamy bathroom, hands planted firmly on his hips. Fuji gaped at the younger boy, and Ryoma tried not to laugh. The tensai's hands were immersed wrist-deep in the purple, lilac-scented bubbles that covered his head.

"That's an..._unusual_ look, Fuji-sempai." Ryoma settled himself on the edge of the bathtub and calmly inspected the upperclassman's hair with one finger. "Purple is a very nice color on you. Perhaps you should ask the captain if you can borrow some of his shirts."

"Uh...thanks?" Fuji removed his hands from his head and scooted back a couple of inches. "Listen, I don't mean to put too fine a point on it, but...what're you doing here?"

"Well, I though about it for a while, and I've decided I'm ready to talk." Ryoma wrinkled his forehead in mock-consternation."Unless...do **you **not want to talk to **me**?"

"No, of course not!" Fuji rushed to assure him, practically beaming. He had known the younger boy couldn't stay furious for very long. "I'm glad you changed your mind. Just give me a minute to rinse out my hair and I'll be ready."

Ryoma blinked.

"You obviously didn't hear me, Fuji-sempai. I said, I'm ready _**now**_. Don't you remember what you promised me earlier? You said you'd be ready and waiting."

"Yeah, but Ryoma-" Fuji began helplessly, indicating his foamy head.

Ryoma seized his hands and squeezed them painfully tight, glaring at him all the while. A gob of soap fell into the tensai's eye and he blinked furiously, unable to wipe it out. Ryoma's frigid stare was starting to get creepy.

"You obviously are much to busy," the younger boy spat. "So I'll try again later."

'Much later', he though to himself with vicious pleasure, and let the older boy's hands drop into the water.

"I...um, ok...sorry?" It was possibly the least articulate sentence Fuji had ever uttered. He watched the younger boy's retreating back, and stretched his throbbing fingers. That child just kept getting stranger and stranger...

Ryoma paused before the door and smirked to himself. He was leading, one game to love; Fuji to serve. Still, it seemed only fair to give the older boy a decent warning...

"Hey Fuji."

"Yes?" The tensai sounded hesitant.

"Did you know that Atobe dyes his hair?"

"...no, I didn't know that." There was a definite note of worry in Fuji's voice.

"Mmm, yes. It's surprising, isn't it?" Ryoma did his best not to sound gleeful. "I think he uses the kind you mix into your shampoo...anyway, I'd better go. You really should check the mirror."

Once e had ducked outside, Ryoma paused to savor his victory. Any second now, any second...

Fuji's shriek echoed through the Siberian house for the second time that week.

"**IT'S PURRRRPLLLLLE!!"**

** XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

Dinner that night was a somber affair. Fuji, who refused to take off his chef's hat, grimly served up a gigantic bowl of macaroni and salsa. His nasty expression made everyone glad they couldn't ask questions.

**A.N: And that's all for today, folklings. Any advice and/or ideas is GREATLY appreciated (translation: please, PLEASE review). And if you're gonna write a review full of nasty comments, please at least ATTEMPT to make them accurate. Thank you, and goodnight!**


	5. Dream sagas and mistaken identities

**Author Note: I was having a bad day, so I decided to take it out on Fuji. Sorry about the multiple Fuji-dream sagas. All I can say is, skip 'em if ya hate 'em. All right, so maybe I had a bit too much fun toying with his psyche. But still, you can't blame me! I know you all secretly love writing because of the power it gives you over the characters. Also, please allow me to correct what appears to be unintentionally added sexual tension; this is a friendship/occasional-enmity..ship? fic, not a future-smutfest fic. Or even future romance-fest. Please enjoy!**

* * *

Fuji smiled and inhaled deeply. The air held a tangy hint of pine, despite the fact he was surrounded by nothing but hundreds and hundreds of silver birch trees. To Fuji's delight, a goat no taller than his knee emerged from the center of a recently-materialized thundering waterfall and began trotting towards him, crying "Onii-chan? Onii-chan?"

Fuji squatted down to pat the goat, who promptly transformed into a spatula-wielding, apron-wearing Yuuta with snow in his hair. Without realizing what he was doing, Fuji leapt forwards and pushed his brother into the river from whence he came, only to discover the river was filled with blue pudding instead of water. As Yuuta bellowed and began wallowing in the pudding, the sky peeled itself apart to reveal a vast expanse of empty space. God knelt down and adjusted his white cap so he could press one of his enormous golden eyes against the crack.

"Mada mada dane, Cain and Abel. Are you fighting **again**?"

Fuji threw himself down on the soil of his garden plot, heedless of the dirt he was grinding into his toga.

"Forgive me, O Lord, for giving in to temptation thus," he babbled, his mouth filling with clay as he spoke. "I didn't want to hurt him, but he was sweeter as a goat."

"Che. Baka." God yawned disinterestedly, winking his golden eyes. "So, do you play tennis?"

Fuji tried to pay attention to what God was saying but there was a mouse nearby digging through a box. Papers were rustling, and Fuji was sure the mouse would begin nibbling on the papers unless he could catch it immediately. With a heroic amount of effort, Fuji wrenched his eyes open and pushed himself upright in his bed. A pair of golden eyes blinked nervously at him from across the room.

"God?" Fuji slurred.

"Only of tennis, Sempai." Ryoma smirked, and surreptitiously slid a final travel alarm clock into the pocket of Fuji's windbreaker. "I was feeling ready to talk again, but you took too long waking up. Sorry."

Without further ado, the young tennis star scuttled out of the bedroom. Fuji squinted at his retreating back in bewilderment through the gloom, before sinking back against his eiderdown pillows and scowling up at the canopy draped above his bed. There was something wrong with his Kohai, and he had a sneaking suspicion it was his fault. The grandfather clock beside his bed ticked in time with the passing seconds as Fuji quietly reviewed the previous day, searching for something he might have done to send Ryoma around the bend. Gradually his guilty thoughts began to settle, and he let himself drift peacefully off to sleep. There would be plenty of time to analyze Ryoma tomorrow and he would be better equipped to restrain himself if he was well-rested, he reminded himself languidly.

* * *

The first alarm woke Fuji up seven minutes before midnight. It was sitting on his night-stand, so he simply shut it off and fell back asleep without a second thought.

The second alarm went off fourteen minutes later, playing a tinny version of "The Toreador Concerto" from Carmen. Fuji dragged himself out of bed and began irritably sifting through the clothes in his bureau. He eventually found the source of his annoyance tucked in the front pocket of his favorite blue collared shirt. After locating it's minute 'off' switch and tossing it beside the other alarm clock on his night-stand, Fuji rolled himself back into bed.

Sleep was only just beginning to relax him once more when the third alarm began beeping insistently. Fighting the urge to cry, Fuji slumped upright yet again and shuffled off in the direction of his desk. He was beginning to have an inkling of just how angry Ryoma really was.

* * *

Fuji flopped against his headboard, staring with glazed eyes at the towering mound of alarm clocks on his bedside table. The morning sun was just beginning to comb its fingers through the lace curtains, caressing the face of the grandfather clock.

Six thirty. Fuji stared at the minute hand of the clock and repressed a hysterical laugh. Six and a half hours of beeping, singing, musical alarm clocks, plus one very memorable one that shrieked. How was he supposed to survive the day on the moments of sleep he had stolen, let alone play tennis, do strength training with the rest of the team, and cook for ten people?

Another alarm clock began insistently playing a techno version of the William Tell Overture. Pushing away thoughts of shooting arrows at other people's heads, Fuji slid off his bed and pulled the offending object out of his left boot. As he straightened up, he caught sight of a lavender-haired boy glaring miserably out at him from the mirror. Terror gripped his sleep-clouded brain for a moment before he remembered his bath the previous night.

As he inspected his reflection, Fuji was forced to admit he had never looked worse in his entire life. Dark, bruise-like bags hung beneath his eyes like hammocks, and his newly-acquired purple hair made his skin look sallow.

With a sigh, Fuji dragged himself across what felt like an ocean of oriental carpet and sank tiredly down beside a vanity table tucked in the corner, prepared to paw through it's drawers. Atobe Keigo was nothing if not a diva; surely he would have tucked away some sort of concealer or sunglasses to beautify "ore-sama's magnificent visage" after sleepless nights.

The vanity not only produced a tiny stick of concealer, but also a bulbous pair of rhinestone-studded sunglasses which Fuji discovered tucked behind a bag of cotton balls and a dusty fishing hat forgotten in the hair-dryer drawer. Fuji carefully caked the circles under his eyes with the make-up and tucked the sunglasses in his pocket, on the off-chance the concealer smeared off.

Armed with his disguise, Fuji shuffled out of his room and down an expansive flight of stairs Atobe probably used for making grand entrances at parties. He knew his friends loved him, but there was absolutely no way they would forgive him if he served breakfast late.

* * *

Fuji was sitting on Seigaku's tennis courts. He could feel the heat of the mid-morning sun press gently on his back. With a soft creak, Yuuta pushed the chain-link gate open and crossed the courts to stand beside his brother. Fuji smiled, taking in his brother's pink Victorian apron and platter of wasabi-oreos.

"Why, Yuuta-kun. You baked these just for me? I'm touched."

"Fuuuuji-sempai..."

"What's that? You miss me so much you're going to transfer back to Seishun Gakun immediately so we'll never have to be apart again?"

"Come ooooon, Fuji-sempai..."

"You think we should marry twin girls when we grow up and raise our families together in a country house by the ocean?" Fuji dabbed tearfully at his eyes. "And to think I ever wondered if you cared about me."

"Fuji-sempai! **You. Up. Now.**"

The delicious warmth that had been enveloping him vanished suddenly and was replaced with a burst of frigid dampness. Perhaps an afternoon shower...?  
Fuji's eyes snapped open. Instead of his charming younger brother, the smug visage of Ryoma Echizen smirked down upon him sideways. Fuji blinked tiredly and straightened up from the counter, massaging a kink out of his neck. In one hand, the seventh grader held Fuji's dripping fishing hat, and from his other hand dangled a recently-emptied water bucket. Fuji ground his teeth.

"What's wrong, Sempai?" Ryoma upended the bucket and sat primly down upon it, smiling angelically. "You should be thanking me on bent knees. Do you have any idea what the others would have done if you fell asleep and burned breakfast? You certainly didn't want to wake up. Were you having a nice dream?"

"**YES.**" Fuji hurriedly flipped the pancakes on the griddle before grimly wringing out his hair. The droplets of water pooled together in glimmering puddles on the griddle for a moment before they heated up and evaporated into wisps of steam. "Yes, I was having a lovely dream. Thank you for asking."

"Oh, my!" Ryoma brought one hand to his cheek in a sickening parody of consternation. "How _cruel _of me to wake you when I could have flipped the pancakes perfectly well myself. It's just...I was ready to talk again. But no matter! You should try falling back asleep immediately! Maybe you can even get back into your old dream."

"Thanks, Ryoma, but I'm quite sure that's not going to work," Fuji grumbled, staring morosely down at his soggy pyjamas. "I know this is going to sound rather strange, but could you please tell me if my...if my _makeup _is running at all?"

Ryoma glanced up at him and wrinkled his nose, before turning away to check the pancakes..

"I guess, Sempai, if you mean that skin-colored stuff dripping down your face. I don't really know for sure, though. I'm a _guy, _you see. _Guys_don't wear makeup." He shot Fuji a concerned glance from the corner of his eye. "Right? You know what I mean? _Guys?_"

For the first time in his life, Fuji actually considered hitting the snarky twelve-year-old, but restrained himself. Ryuzaki would probably use it as an excuse to keep them all there for an extra month. Instead, he mollified himself by mopping up his face and enjoying Ryoma's look of consternation when he produced the rhinestone sunglasses from his pocket. He could have sworn he heard the younger boy mutter "Guys. _Guys_!" under his breath as he hunched over the pancakes on the griddle.

* * *

"She waaaaaas a working girl, North of England way..."

'Oh, please God,' Tezuka fervently prayed. 'Please, just FIVE more minutes. Make him be quiet for five minutes, and I swear, I'll...I'll be nice to him for the rest of the week. I won't make anyone run laps ever again, except Fuji, maybe. Just please, God, please **make him be quiet**.'

"....and now she's hit the biiig time, in the U....."

Tezuka groaned, and rolled away from the voice to the opposite side of his bed. This was **not** happening; it couldn't have been more than quarter to seven, for God's sake. Much to his annoyance, the mattress dipped slightly as the singer climbed onto the bed and curled up next to his legs. Hadn't anybody on his tennis team ever heard of personal space?  
"...and if sheeeee could only heeeeeer me, thiiiiis is what I'd saaaaay..."

The singer paused dramatically to clear his throat, and Tezuka took advantage of the silence to pull his pillow over his head. It just figured he'd end up with someone like Kikumaru for a partner. This was the second morning in a row he had been awoken with a serenade. Yesterday it had been "American Pie"; was Eiji obsessed with songs that had "pie" in their title?

"Ba dum, dum, dum HONEY PIE, YOU ARE MAAAKING ME CRAAAAAZY! I'm in loooove but I'm LAAAAZY, so won't you please come home, COME BACK TO MEEE, HONEY PIE, ah ah ah ahhhh, OH HO ooo000ooo ba ba DE ba da do DO DAA..."

The mattress bounced slightly, and returned to normal. 'Oh, no. Not even Eiji would be impolite enough to jump on someone else's bed,' Tezuka assured himself doubtfully. The mattress dipped again, and the bedsprings groaned loudly as he was bounced several inches in the air. 'Oh, right. This is Eiji. He's about as polite as a hungry cat.'

Eiji giggled, and jumped even higher. This was fun! Maybe spending the week with Tezuka wouldn't be boring, after all. All right, time to step up the game!

"Kikumaru CANNON-BAAALLLLL!"

Tezuka grunted in pain as the acrobat landed heavily on the back of his knees, and seized his shoulders.

"Ooo, sorry about that, Tezuka. Didn't mean to actually land **on** you! LET'S go, time to get UP! We've got a big day ahead of us! There's only seven days for us to really get to know each other. C'mon, Carpe Dium!!! By the end of this week, we're gonna be SOUL brothers. Isn't that cool?!"

Tezuka repressed the urge to weep.

* * *

"...so then in the THIRD grade I got my braces off, but everyone still called me metal-mouth. It was awful! I didn't even want to go to school anymore, it was so humiliating. ANYway, I came up with a plan with this girl who was my friend, but not my girlfriend. Weeell, she was sorta my girlfriend for a couple of days when I accidentally gave her a love-letter I wrote for someone else, but since I didn't know she thought she was my girlfriend, it doesn't count. Anyway, I-"

"Pass the salt, please," Tezuka interrupted, trying desperately to sidetrack his friend.

"Sure thing!" Eiji snatched the salt shaker out of Momo's hand, and grinned when he realized the younger boy could only glower at him silently. "Here you go! Isn't breakfast good? I've gotta say, I'm surprised! Ochibi-chan doesn't seem like the cooking type, and Fujioku-chan doesn't like to cook anything without wasabi in it."

"You're right." Tezuka salted his eggs thoughtfully, and glanced down the breakfast table at the two Chefs Du Jour. At least **they** appeared to be getting along better, Tezuka noted glumly. Echizen had even lent his signature cap to Fuji. As if he felt Tezuka's gaze weighing down upon him, Fuji turned and gave his captain a cheery smile. Tezuka forced himself to smile back, and hastily began examining his eggs the moment the Tensai had turned away. When it came to Fuji, there was no such thing as being too careful.

After he had confirmed his own eggs were wasabi-and-jalapeño free, he turned to his new partner.

"Check your pancakes, Kikumaru."

"Ehh?" Eiji gave his friend a funny look, but did as he was told. "Ohh, this one's strawberry. I love strawberry! And this one's blueberry, and this one's...what is this one?"

Tezuka took the proffered pancake from Eiji and smelled it.

"Chili powder, and the white specks are horse-radish, I think."

"Oh!" Eji's eyes widened. "Ohh. I _see_. **Oh, Tezuka, I'm so full! But I've still got one pancake left. It would be a shame to waste it. Do you want it?**" He waggled the pancake under Tezuka's nose and smirked devilishly.

"Obviously I don't want it," the captain frowned. "Kikumaru, why are you shouting?"

"**All right, then. If you won't take it. I guess I'll leave it on the table to that whoever's the hungriest can eat it**."

By now, the entire breakfast table was watching the duo. Eiji glanced at the row of expectant faces, before tossing the chili-pepper pancake to Momo. The spiky-haired boy looked suspiciously at Eiji, then the pancake, then Fuji, before turning back to the acrobat and raising his eyebrows. Eiji nodded encouragingly, and tried not to smirk. Really, this was just too easy. Who could have known the 'silent game' could be so much fun?

Momo grinned appreciatively, and shoved the entire pancake into his mouth at once. Eiji flinched as he watched the younger boy chew. That was gonna hurt. Any second now. Five, four, three, two-

"AAAAARRRRRGGG!"

Momo leapt to his feet, one hand clutching his throat. He scrabbled about the table for a moment before seizing the first glass he could get his hands on; it happened to be Fuji's. The tensai rose to his feet, clapped his hands to his partner's cap to hold it in place, and shook his head frantically at the younger boy, but Momo was too stricken to notice. He poured half of the glass down his throat before freezing, and keeling over in a dead faint. Fuji seized the opportunity, and slunk off quietly.

Kawamura bent over to check his friend's pulse and, after confirming he was alive, hauled him back up into his chair. Momo slumped onto his side, staring off dazedly as a trickle of drool oozed out of his mouth.

"What on earth was Fuji drinking?" Inui mumbled, pulling out his notebook and bending down to sniff the glass Momo had dropped. "...my God. Tabasco sauce."

"**Tabasco** sauce?" Ryoma looked astonished. "Fuji, I always knew you were a freak, especially with that makeup goop, but...Fuji?" He turned around and scowled darkly at the Tensai's recently vacated chair, before hurrying off in pursuit of his partner.

"Time to go." Tezuka grabbed Eiji by the wrist and hauled him to his feet. The acrobat grinned at him nervously.

"You know, I-"

"Nope."

"Aw, c'mon Tezu-"

"**Just. Don't. Talk.**"

"...ok."

"Momo doesn't look too good," Kawamura stated, wrinkling up his forehead with worry. "We should probably get Ryuzaki to have a look at him."

Inui nodded, and tucked his notebook back into his pocket. Together they managed to haul Momo out the door, and presumably off to their coach's room.

Oishi watched them go with a concerned look that didn't escape the notice of his partner.

"Don't worry," Kaidoh mumbled. "That peach idiot is a survivor. He'll be fine."

"I know," Oishi sighed, turning to look at the younger boy. "He's going to turn out fine, it's just that...well, never mind. More pancakes?"

"...not on your life, Sempai. But thank you."

* * *

Fuji hurried down the hallway to the bathroom he shared with Ryoma, Taka's group, and Kikumaru's group. The hand-crafted ceramic tiles were chilly underfoot, and he wished he had thought to wear socks. After knocking to make sure it was unoccupied, Fuji ambled into one of the stalls and settled himself on the immaculate floor against the wall, ready to analyze.

Breakfast had certainly been a disaster. He never should have made those pancakes, and the worst part was the wrath he most certainly would have incurred from Ryoma; poisoning his best friend was probably not the best way to get back on his good side.

The bathroom door creaked open, and Fuji listened to a small pair of feet patter across the tiles, bracing himself for a confrontation.

"Fuji-sempai? I know you're in here. I want my hat back."

"And I want _my_ hat back. My sunglasses, too, while you're at it." Fuji snapped the lock on his stall closed and stood on the toilet seat, which had Atobe's profile embossed and gilded onto its surface. "You toss my things up, and I'll give you back your hat. Go on!"

"Men, Fuji. We're _men_! We don't wear rhinestones, not even Atobe. Those glasses probably belong to his mother, or something! Fine, take them. And take your smelly old fish hat, while you're at it!" Ryoma pulled both coveted items from his pocket and tossed them up to Fuji more forcibly than was necessary.

The Tensai caught them with relief and slid the sunglasses firmly onto his face before dropping Echizen's hat into the boy's waiting hands. With a final irritated glance at his partner, Ryoma stalked back into the hallway.

After checking to ensure the younger boy had truly left, Fuji hopped down from the embossed toilet lid and ambled out of the stall towards the sink. Tabasco sauce was delicious, but it's unusual aftertaste had never been quite to his liking. Grimacing slightly, Fuji sifted through the pile of nine toothbrushes in medicine cabinet before selecting his own and borrowing a generous amount of Eiji's favorite toothpaste. He could feel the coolness of the painted mural through his pyjamas as he leaned against the wall, absentmindedly scrubbing at his teeth. With his fishing hat and huge sunglasses on, he could barely identify himself as the boy reflected in the mirror.

Fuji rinsed out his mouth sleepily and pulled his hat down in the front to hide his purple bangs. It was incredible, really, how different he looked. He yawned, and felt his eyes drifting shut. Really...really...incredible....

* * *

Eiji froze like a deer caught in a set of headlights. Terror consumed him, flooding his body with adrenaline. His heart thundered furiously, his pulse roared in his ears, and little beads of sweat began pooling on his palms.

Stretched out and snoring on the bathroom floor was _a stranger _wearing sunglasses and a fishing hat. In an instant, everything made sense. Atobe didn't want to help Seigaku improve their tennis, or even irritate them by shipping them off to Siberia for a month; he clearly intended to lure them away to a secluded town and then have them done in by a stranger!

Eiji felt his blood run cold at the very thought.

Although...Eiji bent over the stranger, examining him carefully. He didn't know much about mobsters, but he was pretty sure they usually didn't wear rhinestone sunglasses. The only man he knew who wore rhinestones was Atobe, and that was because Atobe was a diva. How dangerous could a **diva **be?

The stranger smacking his lips loudly and rolled over, his hat riding up to expose tufts of purple hair.

_Purple hair...?_

Eiji backed silently out of the bathroom and raced down the hallway. Tezuka glanced up from his book in surprise as his partner barrelled into their room.

"Tezuka, he's here!" Eiji wheezed, clutching a stitch in his side. "He's asleep in the bathroom- _Atobe Keigo!_"


End file.
